Fates Burden
by C. Wolfborn
Summary: A young Dark Elf with an unusual past, awaits an unknown danger outside of Neriak. On what path will his fate take him? First two chapters, stay tuned for more coming. Please let me know what you think so far.
1. Chapter 1

Morgiir stood atop a tall forested slope overlooking a great valley. He looked out across the vast white landscape below him…waiting. _And how much longer must I wait?_ He thought to himself. The snow was up to the tops of his boots now, and it was still coming down heavily. The large white flakes made a soft pattering in the muted silence of the wilderness around him. He had set up camp in this spot more than ten days ago. It had been cold of course, but the snow was a new development. He knew it would not be possible to survive another week in this weather.

His pale skin and white hair were almost the same color as the snow. If not for the black chain mail shirt and cloak he wore, he might have been perfectly camouflaged. He chuckled softly at the thought of himself running naked through the snow like a wild beast.

_If only I knew what it was I'm supposed to be waiting for!_ He thought. All his mother had told him was that danger would come to their underground village, and that he must wait for it, and warn them when it came. He chose this spot because it was the best vantage point for seeing any comings and goings from home.

Then, a faint sound caught his ears. The clattering of metal and harsh voices drifted across the valley. The snow had limited his vision, but he could see them now, they were moving into the valley below him. Orcs! "What in darkness are they doing here?" He said aloud, as if there were someone around to answer him. They looked like a raiding party, a rag-tag band of killers; he counted thirty…no forty.

He'd heard stories about attacks by orc's on outlying farms and settlements. But he had never thought they would risk passing through Nektulous forest, or ever even consider attacking the Dark Elves. Perhaps they were just passing through? _Perhaps._ He thought. _But not likely. _

Suddenly, a loud horn rang out on his left. Not twenty paces away from where he stood; a huge orc stepped out of the trees and began plodding towards him through the deep snow. The orc was covered in thick furs and it wore a wolfs head as a helm. A large gold ring hung in its broad nose and the hair of its black beard was tied into a thick braid.

The orc's below stopped and looked up the slope to where Morgiir was standing, frozen in shock. The orc smiled cruelly, as he slowly hoisted a giant rusty looking battle axe from his back. "A youngling, so far from its mothers cave?" The orc croaked mockingly.

Without taking his eyes off the orc, Morgiir slowly reached down and grasped the hilt of his sword. _I don't have time for this. _He thought._ I have to warn them!_

He released his grip on his sword and focused his energy. He felt the hate of Innoruuk spreading through him, into his hands and fingertips. He gathered it and tightened it into a ball, then threw it at the orc standing in front of him. A dark green cloud erupted around the stunned orc, as he turned and ran into forest. Behind him he heard the orc retching and choking. He knew he wasn't supposed to channel the darkness, his mother forbade the use it. _But this was an emergency, _he reasoned.

That is why his village lay separated from the rest of Neriak. They were the Ne'ernan, a community of Dark Elves who shunned the idolization of their creator, along with all of his gifts. Anything he knew of the dark arts came from what his father had taught him, before he died.

Branches whipped his face as he half ran; half trudged through the frozen forest. He heard another horn blast not far off. They were following him! It was then that he realized he would not be able to go home, not without leading the orcs directly to the front steps of Ne'ernan! _I must lead them in the wrong direction. _He thought, with a conviction he had never known before. On that thought, he began making his way eastwards, away from his home.


	2. Chapter 2

Exhausted, Morgiir stumbled and fell to his knees in the snow. Steam from his heavy breathing rose in front of his eyes. His leggings were completely soaked through and his legs felt shaky and numb from the cold. He pushed himself up again and attempted to take another step, but fell back down immediately. Behind him the horns still sounded, but they were far away now.

The heavy snow had turned into a full on blizzard, the wind howled around him and all he could see was white. He was going to die here, this was certain, but his home was safe and that was all that mattered. His parents had taught him that death was part of life and not to be feared. A deep calm descended on him. Maybe the orcs would die from exposure too?

Behind him he heard a soft crunching sound which grew louder with ever step. He whirled to see the same orc that he had poisoned earlier, trudging towards him. "Your're in trouble youngling! Did you really think you'd be able to hide from me? I don't know what you did to me, but you are going to pay for it!" The orc's voice sounded muffled through the fierce wind. _No, not like this!_ Morgiir's mind began to race. _Why couldn't I have just fallen asleep in the snow? No! _He thought rising to his feet. _Those are a coward's thoughts._ _ I will fight this orc and die as a warrior, like my father._

On his feet now he drew his sword, and held it in front of him like his father had taught him. The orc stood only a few paces away now, holding his massive axe with both hands. Morgiir tried to summon the darkness again, but it eluded him in his exhaustion. A few moments passed as either opponent measured the other. Finally the big orc broke the silence. "I am Garlug, chief scout of Bloodthorn Clan, what are you called?" Morgiir steeled himself and shouted into the wind to be heard. "I am Morgiir, son of Morgad from Ne'ernan!" He tried to keep his hands from shaking and fear blurred his vision, as the towering orc nodded, seemingly content with this information.

With a loud yell, Garlug swung his axe in a crosswise sweep. Morgiir parried the blow, but was knocked on his back by the force of it. His frozen hands felt broken. He jumped to his feet again to block another heavy swing, this time only knocking him backwards a few steps. _Stand your ground and make an opening._ He thought. _That is how you win. That is how you survive!_ The axe swung again, grazing the male on his shoulder as he jumped out of the way.

Crouching down Morgiir grabbed a handful of snow and crunched it into a ball with his left hand. Garlug raised his axe to swing again as Morgiir threw the snowball, hitting the orc square in the face. Blinded by the snow, Garlug swung widly. But Morgiir easily dodged and darted in at the first opening, burying the length of his sword into the orcs side. The orc bellowed loudly, and swung the butt end of the axe down, striking Morgiir in the head. Morgiir let go of his sword and fell into the welcoming arms of darkness.


End file.
